The Cliff
by Insanity Studios Ink
Summary: It was their cliff. In times of trouble, they would go to the cliff to cry. In times of joy, they would go to the cliff to celebrate. Just the two of them. And then there was one. WARNINGS: Suicide


_This is a purely angst story. Do not read if you like fluffy little ditties. Here we go, folks, buckle yourselves in! Warnings for suicide._ On the south-eastern side of the island, large cliffs rose from the icy waters and shot hundreds of feet in the air. Not many people went to this part of the island; Hiccup and Astrid had enjoyed many times of quiet solitude, just them and their dragons. The woman had many happy memories of her beloved on that cliff, playing in the grass, so high above the sea.

Today Astrid was alone. She stood at the very edge of their cliff. On the isle of Berk, this was the tallest accessible spot. The iron-gray water crashed onto the rocks far below her. Out at sea, a few fishing boats bobbed silently on the stormy sea. The sharp wind had kicked up, blowing the impending storm clouds closer to her. A light drizzle had started, the first of the looming storm that was threatening to break, just like the storm inside of her.

There were many causes behind this inner turmoil, and at the centre of it, a marriage. More specifically, an arranged marriage. Before Astrid had even been born, her parents had set up a contract with the Brantsons.

Then, sixteen years afterwards, they had informed her. She fought it, but did not win. Astrid was forced to spend two years trying to love a man she didn't know. Aslaug was every bit a Viking warrior: strong, bulky, masculine, and cocky. His love for himself far outweighed his love of anything-or anybody-else, including her. He wanted a wife that bowed to his will, one that put him on a pedestal while she groveled in the dirt. She had tried, for two long years, to be that woman.

During the whole time, her love for Hiccup never wavered. She distanced herself, avoided him, and used every trick in the book to crush her infatuation. And yet she still loved him, loved him with such a fury that it was unmatched. So she buried it. She hid it in the depths of her subconscious, trying her best to hide from the truth.

As the months past, Hiccup grew increasingly more secluded. He buried himself in his work, and avoided her at all costs. She had thought his love for her burnt out, leaving nothing left but ashes dancing on the winds. And yet it wasn't.

After her engagement had been announced, they fought. They fought like wounded dragons, and indeed, their hearts had been most gravely wounded. The two of them had confessed their feelings, and "kissed and made up," as they say.

It had been a happy few weeks when they were together. In the daylight, Astrid was madly in love with her fiancé. In the evening, her true love would comfort her in every way he could. Then reality hit.

The wedding date had been set, and she and Hiccup raced against time to find a way out of it. He had found one. A holmgang. Hiccup had challenged Aslaug for the right to win Astrid's hand.

It was a tense fight. But for all of Hiccup's inventions, he had lost. He was alive, but barely so. His face was split open down to the bone, and Aslaug had tried to cut off his other foot. Astrid's fiancé had kept the young man alive so that when he forced Astrid to marry him, he could gloat to the defeated Hiccup.

Astrid's true love would never see that wedding. Just yesterday, he had asked her to meet him in the forge. Tears ran down her cheeks as she relived that terrible memory.

 _The sun was just starting to set. She had put Stormfly up for the night, and was walking briskly to the village. Hiccup was in the back room, drawing away. With a start, she realized he was drawing her. Even as she watched, a tear fell onto the paper, and he carefully brushed it away._ _"You wanted to talk, Hiccup?" she said._ _He turned to her. "Yeah. Have a seat. Here, I made you some tea."_ _She did so, looking at the sheer amount of drawings crammed on the wall and taking the cup he offered her._ _"Asta, I don't think I'll be able to do it."_ _"Do what?" she asked, sipping her tea._ _"Watch you be forced to live with him." he replied._ _"I know. I can't bear the thought of marrying anyone but you."_ _"I wanted to let you know that I'm sorry."_ _She was puzzled. "For what?"_ _"Not being able to get you out."_ _"Hiccup, it wasn't your fault. If anything, the blame lies in my parents."_ _"I want to let you know, whatever happens next, it's not your fault, and it never will be." he told her._ _"Hiccup, we'll find a way. There's always a hidden option."_ _He was really crying now, tears running down his face. "I know. And I've found it. I'm so sorry, Asta."_ _She was starting to worry. "Hiccup, what's going on?"_ _He let out a sigh, and his eyes fell shut. His body slumped against the forge wall, and the tears stopped pouring down his face._ _"HICCUP!" she screamed, rushing to his side._ _The teacup he had been drinking from was clenched tightly in his hand. The liquid within had was bitter. Foxglove._ _She knew he was already dead. Hugging his still-warm corpse in her arms, she screamed as her heart was wrenched into a thousand pieces. Deep within her, she could feel something die with her beloved. She was sobbing uncontrollably, wailing her pain to the village._ _Stoic came running. When he entered the small room, he stopped short at the horrifying scene in front of him._ _"No..." he whispered, collapsing on his knees. He scooped both his dead son and the heartbroken girl in his arms, huge sobs racking his body as his tears drained into his beard._ _Toothless was next to arrive, shoving both of them aside to get to his human. He crooned, puffing air at Hiccup's face. There was no movement. He wailed, long and loud, curling up around his boy._ _When Stoic tried to hold his son again, Toothless growled at him, draping the prone body on his back and exiting the forge. The dragon nudged the prosthetic tail into the automated position, and flew off._

They had not seen either of the two again. Astrid assumed the Night Fury had held a funeral, one they had not been invited to.

The Vikings had made a funeral pyre for the boy, stocking it with all of the goods he would need on his journey to the next realm. At sunrise today, they had set it sailing, burning brighter than the noon-day sun.

Astrid had not been one of the archers. Her mother had forbidden it, saying it would be improper to mourn a man whom she had no relations to. Snotlout had lit it in her stead, alongside the chief.

So she had watched from this cliff as the boat made its way to Valhalla. She stood watching as it disappeared over the horizon. And she hadn't moved since. The rest of the villagers, save Stoic and Gobber, went about the rest of their day.

Her mother had most likely gone back to sewing the wedding dress she was supposed to wear, the fishermen had gone fishing, and the gossip continued to spread.

She didn't care. She wasn't ever going to go back to that village. Not to her parents, not to Aslaug, not to anyone. Despite what Hiccup had said, she knew it was her fault. None of this would have happened if she had fought harder, or not led Aslaug on. So it was all her fault, no matter what a dead person said to try and convince her.

And so she was at a crossroads. The path split into two, neither of which ended with happiness. Of course, there was always a hidden option. She had always known what hers was. She had found the same option Hiccup had.

The young girl could cry no tears, for she had cried them all out already. Instead, she looked at the rocks below her, and smiled. It wasn't a happy smile; instead, it was one of someone who had forgotten how to feel pain.

She finally moved for the first time in six hours. One step, then two. Her legs shook, but her determination was steeled. Astrid turned around to face to village.

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I belong to the man I love. I'm going with Hiccup now." she whispered, and only the trees heard.

She leaned backwards, and fell. Even as the wind whipped through her hair, even as the water rushed up to greet her, she was happy. Her last expression was one of joy, and her last thought? It was of Hiccup.

The heavens opened; raining down a thick downpour that drenched everything. On the other side of the island, Stoic knew that the gods mourned the loss of not one, but two of their greatest heroes.

Hundreds of kilometres away, away from the storm, a campfire burned brightly on a small island. Beside it, Astrid carefully dried her hair, hanging her clothes to dry on a tree nearby. She was happy. Behind her, Hiccup watched as he ate a piece of dried mutton as he reclined against Toothless. He was happy. Toothless snorted at them, and went back to sleep. They were all happy.

His beloved sat down beside him, curling into him for warmth. The two of them had planned long and hard for their deaths, and it had all payed off in the end.

They had found their hidden option.

 _Did I say it didn't have a happy ending? Well, I lied. Sorry for stringing you guys along! That was an interesting roller-coaster ride. Let me know what you thought. See ya' in a year or two!_ _On a final note, my mom is going into surgery now. I hate to ask things of people, but if you are a religous person, could you please pray for her, and us? Thank you guys, you lot are the best. I don't deserve you guys. *cries*_

 _~Best Wishes, Joan McCreedy_


End file.
